Temporary Distraction
by SnerkyOne
Summary: Mary is upset. Marshall provides a distraction.


_**Temporary Distraction**_

He was off the couch and reaching for his cell before the second ring. He didn't even bother checking the caller ID, confident he knew who was on the other end.

"Marshall Mann, US Marshal Extraordinaire & Purveyor of Delectable Pie, how may I be of assistance?"

He'd expected a smart-ass reply, but was greeted with silence instead. A quick look at the phone's display confirmed he hadn't been wrong about the caller, leaving him slightly puzzled. His partner was normally halfway through a sentence before he even managed to say hello. To say Mary didn't do quiet very well would be an understatement.

"Hey Mare, if this is your attempt at an obscene phone call, you're failing miserably," he teased, trying to coax a response out of her. "Where's the heavy breathing? The moaning? The gasping? I gotta say, this is doing absolutely nothing for me..."

More silence, causing alarms to go off in his head.

"Mary?"

He used her first name then - something he never did when talking to her – hoping she'd understand what he was asking. If she was in trouble, he needed to know without tipping off any possible eavesdroppers.

"I'm all right," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper, before lapsing back into silence.

Relief at her being safe warred with his concern over her uncharacteristically subdued behavior. His partner was obviously hurting, and while he desperately wanted to know why, he knew better than to push. Besides, right now, she needed him, and that was all that mattered. There would be time later on to find out what had happened. Just like there would be time to hunt down whoever had hurt her and make them very sorry for what they had done.

Nobody hurt his Mary and got away with it.

"How can I help?"

"Talk to me. Doesn't matter what you say. I just need…"

She paused, struggling with having to ask for help, even from him.

"You just need a distraction."

It wasn't a question. Marshall always knew what Mary needed, even when she didn't.

"All right... Let's see... Did you know that 'Stewardesses' is the longest word typed with only the left hand, while 'lollipop' is the longest word typed with only your right hand?"

He easily fell into the familiar routine of spouting random facts at her: language (there are two words in the English language that have all five vowels in order: 'abstemious' and 'facetious'); animals (tigers have striped skin, not just striped fur); insects (butterflies taste with their feet); history (Winston Churchill was born in a ladies' room during a dance); biology (it's impossible to sneeze with your eyes open).

He eventually stopped, not because he had run out of things to say – he couldn't imagine that ever happening – but because he sensed she was on more solid ground now.

"Better?"

"Yeah."

"You want to tell me what this was about?"

"No."

Disappointed, though not surprised, he said nothing.

"I know I'm not being fair to you. You're always there when I need you, and I never give anything back in return..."

"It's ok," he replied, not so much because it was ok, but because he knew that's what she needed to hear. "You don't have to tell me."

"Yeah, I do. But not over the phone... Not right now..."

_Not ever _is what she really meant, he knew. Come tomorrow, having had some time to regroup, she'd be back to her old self, keeping everyone at a safe distance. They'd been through this many times over the years, always with the same results. And while it had taken him a long time, he had come to accept that things would never change with them; they were who they were, for better or for worse.

"We'll talk tomorrow," she promised before disconnecting the call.

Sighing, he put down the phone and settled back onto couch. He briefly considered picking up the book he'd been reading when the phone rang, but quickly discarded the idea. The conversation with Mary had left him unsettled; he doubted he'd be able to make much sense of Schopenhauer's theories just now. He grabbed the television remote instead, thinking he might catch _Jeopardy _or an old rerun of _Win Ben Stein's Money_, when the doorbell rang.

Cursing softly, he made his way to the front of the house, all the while trying to figure out the most efficient way to get rid of his unexpected guest. Pulling the door open, he was surprised to find his partner standing there, phone still in hand.

"Were you out here the entire time?" he asked, confused.

"No. I was in the car."

"And the car was..."

"In your driveway."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a coward when it comes to this sharing of emotions stuff. I drove here on instinct, like I always do, knowing you'd help... But then I was scared to face you, afraid you'd see something I didn't want you to see, so I called you instead... And, after I hung up, I realized that if I drove home without telling you, I'd chicken out... I'd go back to being the Mary who never shares anything, never lets anyone in... The Mary who has driven away every person she has ever cared about..."

She paused, struggling to find the right words.

"I don't want to be that person anymore," she finally managed, her voice breaking.

She looked so vulnerable - so unlike the kick-ass Mary he knew - that he was momentarily at a loss at what to say. He pondered his options, desperately trying to find the right thing to say. In the end, he realized there was really only one thing he could say.

"Just tell me what you need."

"You. I need you," she said, looking more scared than he'd ever seen her.

"You've always had me, Mare."

Whatever reassurance she'd been seeking he'd obviously failed to provide, as she still looked like her world was falling apart around her. Mentally reviewing what she'd said, he suddenly understood. Silently cursing every person who'd hurt her in the past - starting with her father and including himself - he said the one thing he knew she needed to hear from him.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise?"

"You couldn't drive me away even if you tried," he answered, pulling her into his arms. He reluctantly let her go after a few seconds, knowing he needed to give her space so she could pull herself together.

She stepped back, seemingly unsure what to do next. He said nothing, waiting for her to make the next move.

"So am I gonna stand on your doorstep all night, or can I come in?" she finally asked, smirking.

He smiled slightly at her returning sarcasm. That was the Mary he knew and loved...

"Sure. Wouldn't want the neighbors talking," he joked, stepping aside and allowing her inside.

"Anything good on TV tonight?" she shouted from the living room, having already appropriated the couch and the remote control. "And if you say Back to the Future, I am going to seriously hurt you..."

Chuckling to himself, he closed the door and went to join her, re-appropriating a corner of the couch.

He glanced over at her, a warm feeling burgeoning in his chest. It meant the world to him that she had been willing to open up to him like that. And while he knew things wouldn't just magically change between them, at least now he had some hope that they one day could.

In the greater scheme of things, what had happened tonight might not have been a huge leap, but it was a start...


End file.
